Dark Rooms
by Angela Pirate Ryoko
Summary: When Eiji is alone, Ibe does his best to offer support, but it gets to be more than either or them expected. spoilers to end of series! (unfinished)
1. Dark Rooms part one

Dark Rooms  
  
by Angela  
  
02-10-04  
  
Part One  
  
It was raining in Tokyo when the plane landed. Heavy sheets of water distorted the city lights, blurring them through the windows of the cab. Shunichi turned away from the glass to glance at his companion. Eiji was exhausted--he slumped in his corner of the back seat, physically drooping under the strain of nearly two days traveling. Another stress added to that weight--he was still upset over not being able to see Ash before he left. At the airport before they left New York he'd been jumpy and distracted, peering through the crowd and starting at a certain shade of blond hair. Shunichi didn't know if he should feel guilty or not--he and Max had done what they thought best--but the guilt pushed through any sense of justification anyway.  
  
As they boarded the plane, he'd reminded Eiji that they didn't know when Ash would even get his letter, and that it was far too dangerous for him to see them off at Kennedy Airport. This somehow only deflated the boy further, and Shunichi's sense of wrongness in separating the two only increased.  
  
They arrived at Shunichi's apartment sometime after midnight. Eiji didn't react to the rain as he stepped out of the cab. He gathered our overnight bags as Shunichi paid the driver and pulled their suitcases from the trunk. It was good to be home. He couldn't wait to get to mixing chemicals in the darkroom, to see what kind of photographs nine months in New York had gotten him. But first, sleep.  
  
He unlocked the steel door and flicked on the light. Nothing was vandalized or overly dusty--it looked like the landlady came through once a week and cleaned things up, just like she'd promised. They slid out of their shoes and stepped into the living room. "Ah, it's good to be home!" Shunichi dropped the suitcases near the door and surveyed the apartment. The heap of unopened mail on the table could wait, as could the flashing red light of the answering machine. He'd had them turn on the phone service just the day before, and no one knew they were back in town, so it was a bit strange to have messages so soon. Still, at just that moment, he didn't care.   
  
"Ei-chan, you know where the extra blankets are. If you want to drag them out, we can go right to sleep." He locked the door and followed Eiji to the other room. The apartment was three rooms, total, and he had converted one of them--the bathroom--into a darkroom. The main room--living, dining, kitchen, etc.--was small but serviceable, and the bedroom was almost a closet, barely large enough for his bed.  
  
"Thanks for letting me stay, Ibe-san," Eiji said as he pulled blankets from the top shelf of the closet. It was too late to disturb his family, and Shunichi suspected that Eiji wasn't quite ready for the comforts and responsibilities of home just yet. His usual cheery voice was subdued and his shoulders drooped with more than just weariness.  
  
Shunichi stood in the doorway and watched him pull the bulky pillows from their shelf. He was really something. Despite his recent injuries, he still moved like an athlete, his arms and legs fluid even in this menial task. The photographer in him was inspired all over again; almost forgetting the boxes of pictures he already had, he wanted to photograph him. America had been distracting, what with Ash Lynx and banana fish and the guns constantly aimed at their heads, but now that they were back the familiar wonder kicked right back into place. Okumura Eiji was amazing and he didn't even know it.  
  
Shunichi took the blankets and made up a bed on the couch. Eiji followed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He took off his shirt and flung it onto the floor before flopping down onto the couch. "I'm so tired, Ibe-san," he complained good-naturedly. "I feel like I haven't slept in a year."  
  
He was glad that Eiji had the energy even to feign cheerfulness. It would be hard to be away from Ash after so many months beside him, but Eiji was strong. Shunichi had no doubts that he'd manage. He was just switching the lights off when the phone rang.  
  
"Eh? It's gotta be almost one in the morning. Who'd be calling at this hour?"   
  
Eiji's head lifted from the pillows. "Maybe it's someone in New York? It's daytime over there." His voice was eager, almost excited. Shunichi could tell he hoped it was Ash on the other end.  
  
"Ibe speaking," he said, puzzled, into the phone. There was a static buzz and a pause, and then Max's voice came over the line.   
  
"Shunichi? When did you get in? Have you seen your messages?"  
  
"We just got home. I noticed the answering machine but I didn't check--what's wrong?" His friend's voice was weak with more than the long-distance interference.   
  
Max didn't beat around the bush. "It's Ash. He's dead."  
  
Shunichi's legs went weak and he sat on the bench by the phone. "What? When? What happened?" He tried to keep the strain out of his words, not wanting to scare Eiji.  
  
It happened the day they left--Ash was found in the library. "Are you sure?" Shunichi's stomach hurt like he'd eaten too much wasabi. "It's not just a hoax like last time?"  
  
"I identified the--" Max's voice broke. "I saw him myself, Shunichi. His father is taking him home to be buried."  
  
Shunichi looked over at Eiji, who was sitting up on the couch, his eyes wide with curiosity and concern. "What happened, Ibe-san?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"Eiji," Shunichi's voice went hoarse. "Eiji's here with me."  
  
Max swore. "I'll tell him," he returned gravely. "I can answer his questions."  
  
Shunichi handed over the phone and wandered into his bedroom. How could this have happened? He knew, of course, that Ash lived a dangerous life and it was bound to happen sooner or later, but emotionally, this was impossible. Ash was alive. They'd seen him--he was fine. He was possibly the most alive person Shunichi had ever met, and now he was gone? Snuffed out like a candle? It didn't make any sense.  
  
He heard the receiver click as Eiji laid the phone in its cradle. He closed his eyes, hurt for his friend's sake even more than for his own. When he opened them, the boy stood in the doorway, his body pale in the weak light of the window. "Ei-chan," he whispered. Eiji's face was wet with tears, his mouth a hard line as he tried to stop crying. Shunichi wanted to reach for him, wanted to hold him near and let him cry out all of his pain, but how can a man do something like that?   
  
"I don't want to go home tomorrow," Eiji said, his voice shaking. "I don't want to go anywhere. Can I stay with you, Ibe-san?"  
  
Shunichi crossed the room and yanked the boy against his chest. Pride could be damned when Eiji was in pain. Eiji didn't relax, didn't return the embrace; his body was rigid against Shunichi's. "Can I stay with you?" he asked again, his voice barely audible against the fabric of Shunichi's t-shirt. "Just for a while?"  
  
Did he think he would be turned out? Shunichi held him closer, tangling a hand in his soft, black hair. "For as long as you want, Ei-chan."  
  
A sob shook Eiji's entire body and his arms wound around the older man's torso. His voice seemed to balk, and he wasn't even able to say thank you, but Shunichi understood. He patted the smooth skin of Eiji's back and stroked his hair, not saying anything but trying to comfort the way his mother had years ago. He took a deep breath. His chest was tight and painful, but he knew that there was nothing he could do to ease that ache. It hardly mattered, anyway, when this one was in tears.  
  
An hour later, Eiji fell asleep in Shunichi's bed, having finally cried himself into exhaustion. Shunichi lay awake much later, his arms around the peaceful form that huddled close against his side. The mistakes of the past year tumbled through his head. So many things could've been done differently to prevent this; in so many ways he was responsible for the grief of this young man. Shunichi traced his hand over the plane of Eiji's shoulder and closed his eyes--a part of him knew that a new mistake was forming itself, but he didn't have the heart to refuse it. 


	2. Dark Rooms part two

Dark Rooms  
  
by Angela   
  
02-14-04  
  
Part Two  
  
The next day was silent, almost hollow. Eiji didn't get out of bed until dusk. In the meantime, Shunichi tried to sort out this new twist in their lives. He spent a lot of time on the phone with Max and Charlie, until a clear picture of events formed in his head. They all agreed to keep the details of Ash's death from Eiji. He spoke with Eiji's parents, explaining yet again that their son was not coming home as planned. He didn't have to lie to them this time, as he'd been forced to while they were on the run toward California, but the truth came harder than the lies, and the Okumuras didn't understand how their son could be in Tokyo but unwilling to come home.  
  
"He'll explain it all to you as soon as he's ready," was all Shunichi could tell them. In the meantime, they grudgingly gave their permission for their son to continue to stay with him. Shunichi hung up the phone feeling a bit belligerent. If Eiji didn't want to go home, it was his own business. The boy was twenty years old, certainly old enough to decide what to do with his own life.  
  
He was just coming out of the darkroom when Eiji finally emerged from the bedroom. He hadn't eaten or drank all day, and his face was sallow and puffy from crying. He didn't say anything to Shunichi when he passed; he just looked at his feet and stumbled to the kitchen for a drink. Shunichi watched him gulp the water, watched the desperate way he refilled the glass and drank again, unmindful of the rivulets that streamed down his chin and neck. At least his instincts were intact. When the boy had refused food and water early in the day, Shunichi half-wondered if he was trying to die.  
  
"If you're hungry, I have some leftovers from lunch that you can heat up. Or, if you'd rather, we can go out for something." Shunichi knew he sounded a bit too much like a mother, but he was worried. Even in the lowest point of his depression, Eiji had never been like this.  
  
"No thank you," Eiji said quietly, closing out the last orange rays of sunlight with the blinds. He crawled onto the sofa, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "Sorry for taking your bed all day."  
  
Shunichi wanted to tell him that he was welcome to it. Seeing him curled up on that narrow couch, shivering on a warm evening, made his heart ache. "Do you want to talk?" he asked cautiously.  
  
Eiji looked up at him, pain excruciatingly visible in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ibe-san," he began in a soft, polite voice. "But I'd rather be alone."  
  
Shunichi nodded and went back to work, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his mind that being alone might be the worst thing for his friend. He closed the door to the old bathroom and flipped on his red work light. The darkroom was hung with dripping images of everything that Eiji needed to forget--scenes from that first day in the pool hall, when Ash still regarded him as an enemy and his gang looked distrustfully at his camera. He dropped his latest photograph into the developer and the image of Ash's first smile emerged from blank white. Shunichi had snapped it while Eiji was studying Ash's gun, amazed at the change in the young gang leader's face as soon as he smiled. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet he clearly remembered the sinking feeling in his stomach as Eiji guilelessly returned the grin.  
  
The way he felt about Eiji was something that Shunichi had realized and accepted early in their relationship. It was his secret--not to be discussed and not to be acted upon. He'd never dreamed in a million years that the time would come that his willpower would be tested. He'd managed to work with the boy for over a year now, since before he gave up jumping and quit school, and no one ever realized that the older-brother affection that he seemed to feel for Eiji was really so much more. Though it had pained him to see Eiji falling in love with Ash, Shunichi thought that his feelings were under control, possibly fading with his acceptance of the boys' relationship. Max had hinted otherwise, though how Max had figured it out, Shunichi couldn't tell.  
  
And now, after a night of wakefulness and physical awareness, he was back at the beginning. He was relieved that Eiji had found his way back to the couch, that all of his nights weren't going to be complicated by the tingling awareness of Eiji's body pressed warm and close against his skin. Still, lying awake that night, Shunichi couldn't help but feel that the bed was too large and too cold. For the better part of a year he hadn't had a room to himself, and now that he was finally alone, he found it was uncomfortably lonely.  
  
The next day was better for both of them. When Shunichi got up he found Eiji awake and in the kitchen, chopping green onions to add to scrambled eggs and tuna. The boy smiled. "Good morning, Ibe-san," he greeted him. "You like your toast very light, right?"  
  
Shunichi found himself smiling back, some deep pressure in his chest releasing at the sight of Eiji's cheered expression. "Feeling better?" he asked as he poured himself tea.  
  
A shadow crossed Eiji's face. "A little," he said quietly. He flipped the slabs of tuna over in the frying pan. "Keeping busy helps."  
  
It was then that Shunichi noticed that all of the dishes had been washed and the floor tiles scrubbed. He glanced around the rest of the room. All of Eiji's blankets had been folded and neatly stowed beneath the bench and the mail had been sorted into piles.   
  
"Thank you for letting me stay with you, Ibe-san," he continued. "I'll cook and clean and I won't be any trouble at all."  
  
Shunichi shook his head. "That's not necessary," he told his friend, mussing his hair. "You're here because I want you stay, not because I wanted a housekeeper. Besides, you're my assistant, after all. I might need your help getting this book together."  
  
Eiji's eyes widened. "Ah! The book! I forgot! Have you developed many of the pictures yet?" Since working with him, Eiji had come to enjoy the entire process of photography, but his real interest and talent was always in the dark room. Eiji had developed and printed his entire last project, and Shunichi noticed he had an eye for recognizing a good photograph with a solid composition even on a tiny negative.  
  
But it might hurt him to be surrounded by glossy memories. At least a third of his photographs had been of Ash in some capacity. "I'd rather develop these myself," Shunichi told Eiji. "I have a lot of images to choose from, since we were there so long, and I'd like to choose my prints carefully." He hoped it didn't sound selfish; all he really wanted was to protect the boy from being reminded of his pain.  
  
Eiji nodded. "I understand." He gave Shunichi another weak smile. "Let me know how I can help you," he answered formally.  
  
  
  
After that, Shunichi kept busy in the darkroom and Eiji ran the errands to and from the studio. It took some convincing to get the publishers to let him work from home, but finally they agreed. It made Shunichi feel better to know that he wouldn't have to leave Eiji home alone. He didn't know why it made him nervous to leave Eiji by himself, but his instincts won out and he rarely left for more than an hour or two at a time. His days were dark--both emotionally and physically--as he worked beneath his red light, watching memories emerge under the smooth chemicals. He used a blow dryer to hurry the process, and took care to hide the photographs whenever he wasn't in the darkroom. It was their only bathroom, after all, and Eiji didn't need to stumble into Ash's ghost between the toilet and the sink.   
  
For his part, Eiji tried to keep busy. When he wasn't helping Shunichi with his work or doing the housework he insisted on taking care of, he wrote letters, keeping in contact with Max and Sing even though it seemed to Shunichi that it would be easier to let them all go. After that first night, Shunichi never saw him cry, though he sometimes heard the muffled sounds of sobbing late at night. There were bad days, when Eiji spent hours curled up on the couch, staring out the window or up at the ceiling. During those dark periods he spoke little or not at all, and he wandered around the tiny apartment, seeming to stare through walls.   
  
On one such evening, after Eiji refused yet another offer to go out for dinner, Shunichi made up his mind. He packed up a bundle of toiletries and towels and thrust them into Eiji's hands. "We're going to the bathhouse," he announced. It was unseasonably warm, and he thought it might do his friend good to get out and enjoy the air. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting sick of sponge baths and washing my hair in the sink. A good soak will do us both good."  
  
To his surprise, Eiji didn't protest. Ten minutes later they were outside in the cool evening air. The cherry trees were in bloom and their fragrant petals littered the sidewalk. The sun had set less than an hour before, so the sky was deep blue with lingering light.  
  
Shunichi took a deep breath. "Ah, it's good to be in Japan in the spring," he said lightly.  
  
Eiji looked up. His blurry eyes focused on the trees for the first time, glancing at the old homes and apartments nearby. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "It's quieter here than in America." He readjusted his grip on the bucket of soap and fresh clothes and straightened his shoulders a fraction. "This time of year always reminds me of school. Makes me want to run."  
  
Shunichi was secretly thrilled. It was more than Eiji had said for hours. He didn't push, letting them walk the rest of the way in silence.   
  
The bathhouse was busy. Light spilled onto the sidewalk beneath the curtain and the noise of friendly chatter filled the air. Soon they were squeaky clean and relaxing in hot, herb-scented water. Shunichi grinned at Eiji through the steamy air. "Sometimes I think that changing my bathroom to a darkroom was the best thing I ever did. I'd never make time for this if I still had a tub at home."  
  
Eiji nodded and sank lower into the water. His cheeks were flushed and healthy-looking, but his eyes were sad, withdrawn. "My father and I used to come a lot when I was little. Then we just got too busy." Eiji mumbled. Shunichi was grateful that his friend was making an effort to be social, but it didn't ease the knot of concern in his chest.  
  
"Eiji-kun?" A young voice called out across the huge tub. "Okumura Eiji-kun?" A boy Eiji's age walked toward them in the water. He had longish hair and freckles. "I saw your sister just last week, and she didn't say you were back in town!" The boy laughed and plopped himself down next to them.  
  
"Hajime-kun!" Eiji's eyes widened. "Ibe-san, this is Fujiwara Hajime-kun. We were in the same class in high school. Hajime-kun, this is my--" he seemed to stumble for the right word. "This is my mentor, Ibe-san. We only just got back from America a couple of weeks ago," he explained.  
  
Shunichi moved away and let the boys talk. Eiji was still more reserved than he had been a year before, but Shunichi was glad that his friend had shown up. He watched as Eiji pushed his hair out of his eyes--he'd let it grow so long while they were away--and smiled at a joke his friend made. His voice was deeper, and he looked his age for the first time. There was sharpness to his face that hadn't been there a year before. This wasn't the credulous boy he'd taken to New York.   
  
Shunichi's chest tightened in familiar longing.   
  
The walk home was pleasant. Apparently talking with his old schoolmate had done some good. Eiji was animated and Shunichi let him talk about whatever he wanted, happy to have, at least for the moment, his Ei-chan back. They stopped for soba on the way back to the apartment, and the young man not only ate a full meal, but also drank a couple of cans of beer, which loosened his mood further. By the time they got home, he seemed okay for the first time since leaving New York.  
  
"Thank you, Ibe-san," he said as Shunichi unlocked the door. He looked bashfully at the ground. "You've done so much for me, and I know I've been troublesome."  
  
Shunichi ushered him into the dark living room and closed the door. "It's nothing, Ei-chan," he assured him. It was late and he was feeling the heady effect of the steam and alcohol himself. "Go on to bed--we have a lot to do in the morning." He smiled and headed toward the bedroom.  
  
Eiji's hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.  
  
"Really, Ibe-san," his voice persisted earnestly, "I know you don't really understand how I feel. You and Ash weren't--" he cut off and leaned his forehead on Shunichi's shoulder blade. "I mean, it's not like you spent the same time with him, and yet you've been so patient and sympathetic." The timbre of Eiji's voice changed, and Shunichi could tell he was crying. "I'm sorry."  
  
He turned around and put his hands on Eiji's shoulders. Seeing him this upset made Shunichi's stomach lurch. "It's okay, Ei-chan," he said softly. "You're allowed to be upset. You're allowed to cry. You and Ash...." Shunichi was hesitant to try to define their relationship. His face felt hot as he remembered the way Ash treated him when they visited in prison. "You and Ash had something really special, and losing that is going to hurt for a long time."  
  
He pushed Eiji's long fringe of hair away from his eyes. He wanted to smooth away the damp rivulets that streamed down his cheeks, but he didn't have the nerve. "And until it stops hurting, you can stay right here."  
  
Eiji's arms came around him hard. For long minutes Shunichi stood still, holding Eiji's shaking body against his. "I'm empty inside," the boy whispered, his mouth moving against Shunichi's collarbone. "When I'm busy it's not so bad, but as soon as I stop moving it all goes away and then there's nothing." He fumbled his hands across Shunichi's back and pulled back awkwardly to look into his face. "I want to feel something that doesn't hurt." His expression was soft and desperate, and without warning he kissed Shunichi, his mouth pressing frantically against his.   
  
Shunichi's first reaction was to return the kiss. Almost of its own accord, his mouth opened beneath the onslaught of Eiji's kiss, his senses reeling with the damp soapy smell of him and the slightly yeasty taste of noodles and beer on his tongue. He tightened his grip on Eiji's shoulders as the boy pressed against the hard length of his body. This could only be a fantasy, the kind of dream that woke him from deep sleep, aroused and trembling. Shunichi closed his eyes and enjoyed it.  
  
But only until the salty wetness of Eiji's tears transferred over to Shunichi's face. Reality rose like sickness in him, and he abruptly pulled away from the kiss. He pushed Eiji back until they stood an arm's length apart and tried not to interpret the mournful confusion on the boy's face.  
  
"This isn't the answer," he cautioned, maybe a bit too roughly. His eyes focused on the wall and he wasn't sure if he was talking to Eiji or himself. His hand came unwillingly to his mouth, but he covered the reaction by stroking his mustache. "I can't be a substitute lover. This isn't going to help you."  
  
Eiji continued to cry, his face a mixture of mortification and shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered.  
  
Shunichi softened. "Nothing to apologize for," he answered gruffly. "Just be strong and wait it out--you'll see I'm right." He went into the bedroom and closed the door. It took hours to fall asleep. 


End file.
